


Recount What We've Lost

by gaysparkler



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Angst, Dorian is concerned, Lavellan is in a bad place, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Survivor Guilt, post-haven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-05
Updated: 2017-06-05
Packaged: 2018-11-10 15:20:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11129490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaysparkler/pseuds/gaysparkler
Summary: Newly appointed Samael Lavellan attempts to cope with the losses at Haven.





	Recount What We've Lost

The Inquisitor had gone missing. After his nomination as official leader of the Inquisition, he vanished. Well, not directly after. Samael Lavellan had mingled with the crowd of cheerful subjects, celebrated with his advisors and then with his companions as he joined them in the tavern, but he disappeared shortly afterward. No one honestly seemed to mind his absence, since most of them were too inebriated to notice. No one, except Dorian. Since they had travelled in time, back in Redcliff, a sincere friendship had bloomed between the two men. Dorian had never met a Dalish elf before, so he was very curious and asked a lot of questions about Samael’s upbringing. They often walked side by side during missions, discussing magical theory, as well as the vast difference between magical education in a Dalish clan and in the Tevinter Imperium. The would also sit together by the fire, at night in the camps, before retreating to their respective tents. Samael always seemed so cheerful, even under the constant rain of the Storm Coast or knee deep in the bogs of the Fallow Mire.

Which explains why Dorian was so worried about the vanishing Inquisitor. After the attack on Haven, Samael had been grim and he isolated himself. He would often leave a conversation mid-sentence or avoid them altogether. Most of the time, the Tevinter would leave Samael alone, but at times, he could not let him walk away. Dorian would chase after him and make sure he was alright. If he was lucky, Samael would confide in Dorian and slightly open up. It had happened a few times on their way to Skyhold.

Dorian was now walking the vast grounds of their new stronghold, looking for the Inquisitor. He was not in the tavern with the others—Dorian had been avoiding this place. He did not want to fall back in old habits. Some guards told him they had seen their leader go inside the castle. Intrigued, he made his way inside. The fortress was in shambles. Fortunately, people were already set on clearing the rubble and building scaffolds to support the fragile stone arches above their heads. The castle was new to him, so he walked around, venturing further into the building. He went down a flight of stairs and arrived in a large open room with paintings on the walls. Impressed, he explored the vast room until he heard shuffling and retching sounds. He quickly made his way to the source of the noise. He found a small room—a wine cellar, easy to miss if one did not know of its existence. He stepped in.

“Inquisitor?” he asked, shocked by the sight.

The Inquisitor was laying on his side, empty wine bottles surrounding him. His skin was even paler than usual, a slight green tint colouring his delicate features. Not far from him were the contents of his stomach that he had thrown up before Dorian arrived. This was not good. The Tevinter rushed to Samael’s side and pulled him up in a sitting position. His friend was miserable. Tears stained his worryingly pale face and there was mucus under his nose. In short, he looked like someone who was drunk and had just vomited. _Maker,_ Dorian thought, _how many times had this been him?_ The man pressed reassuring hands on Samael’s shoulders. The elf slowly looked up at him.

“Dorian…? Even you’re calling me that now?” Samael slurred, his eyes unfocused.

“Maker Samael, what happened?”

“Haven.”

“Haven?” Dorian repeated.

"They all died and I didn't. Why didn't I die, Dorian? They say it was divine providence. No one sent me, I don't even believe in that Maker guy. I'm just someone who was at the wrong place at the wrong time, I'm not special."

Ah, he was at this stage of drunkenness. Dorian listened to him.

“You said you believed in me,” Samael said, almost incomprehensibly. “Why? Why would your _Maker_ send a Dalish elf?”

“Let us not speak of such things right now, my friend,” Dorian answered. “Let’s get you back to your room, shall we?”

Samael did not reply. He only slouched forwards in the mage’s arms and started to cry.

“I couldn’t save them. Minaeve, she died right in front of me…” he sobbed.

Dorian held the young man tight. He had been there in so many previous occasions and how much had he wished for someone to be there for him. So, he did his best to provide the new and overwhelmed Inquisitor with comfort in a moment of distress. He held him close, until Samael’s sobs slowed to a stop and his breathing evened out. He had fallen asleep. Dorian stayed there, unmoving for a few minutes until he was certain that his friend was in a deep slumber. He rearranged their positions, one of his arms under Samael’s knees and the other across his back, and picked him up. Hoping that as little people would see them, Dorian made his way upstairs, back to the main hall of the castle. He quickly turned left an entered the Inquisitor’s quarters. Walking up the flight of stairs, he went by the bed and, hesitating, delicately set Samael down on the mattress. He brushed the hair away from the elf’s face, his fingers carding through chestnut locks. The Inquisitor looked younger when he slept, his face free of the worry that often twisted his features despite his usually cheerful attitude. After a moment, he was able to turn back and walk away, but a hand grabbed the fabric of his robes.

“Stay…?” Samael weakly said.

Dorian hesitated. What would people say if they saw him walk out of the Inquisitor’s quarters in the morning? However, when he faced the elven man and saw his flushed face and turquoise eyes staring up at him under his lashes, he could not refuse. Keeping all of his robes on, he laid down next to Samael, who immediately curled up on his side. He was frozen for a minute, at a loss. After a moment, he wrapped his arm around the other man’s small frame. It was not long until Samael fell asleep, for good this time. As the night progressed, Dorian only had one thought on his mind.

_Don’t get attached._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
